


Acceptance

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, References to interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Fulcrum and Misfire are finally alone—to Misfire’s delight and Fulcrum’s terror.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on September 8, 2013 as “Drabble #48 - Misfire/Fulcrum.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on October 17, 2019. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

Misfire jumped off the ledge.

It had been a whooping, hollering, full fledged run to the edge of a cliff side where he leapt off as if he were born to fly. The idiot. just because they were made of metal didn’t mean they’d survive a fall like that! Fulcrum dove to the side, horrific thoughts of Misfire’s maroon body slamming into the ground and–his companion transformed and flew up into the air again. Fulcrum slapped himself in the face. Right.

“Misfire is a jet,” Fulcrum said to himself, smacking his lips together and feeling as dumb as Spinster.

The K-Class mech grumbled as he started to climb down the side of the scrap heap. He blamed the stress of the situation on forgetting his friends all had perfectly functioning T-Cogs that turned them into non-explosives. He shouldn’t be expected to think clearly in these situations. Irrational fear and panic is what got him into trouble to start with.

Fulcrum jumped down to the bottom of the pile, knocking loose some cans and pipes. They were on Junkion of all places–how Spinster had managed to find an active space bridge he’d never know–and had gotten separated when the ship crashed. He didn’t know where the others had been thrown, but Fulcrum knew he had to keep his optics on Misfire.

“Hey! Wait up!” Fulcrum shouted to the blur doing spins in the sky sky. He hopped over some weird box with a glass front. Fulcrum’s target was getting farther away! “I can’t fly!”

“Well, duh!” Misfire zoomed down and transformed again. He tackled Fulcrum in the side, toppling them both over, instead of landing on his feet. Misfire poked Fulcrum in the side of the helm. Repeatedly. Fulcrum wished he could hate it, but Misfire wouldn’t be Misfire without that extra energy. The jet hummed, “It’d be nice if you could, though.”

“Yeah,” Fulcrum pushed the hyper active jet off. He managed to sit up, his legs still spread out in front of him. He huffed and leaned against a pile of junk. He looked up at the vast sky above them. It spread on forever, calm and open. “It would.”

“Though you’re okay as you are if you ask me. You’re all grumpy and cute and stuff,” Misfire said. He put his hands on Fulcrum’s shoulders, and scooted so that he was straddling Fulcrum’s knees. He popped up on his feet, shoving his crouch plate in Fulcrum’s face, smacking him in the chin. Misfire looked over the pile with a hand shielding his optics, scanning the horizon that Fulcrum couldn’t see. “Nope.”

“Nope, what?” Fulcrum said, leaning hard into the junk behind him. Misfire kept moving, and Fulcrum had to push at the jet’s thighs to get him away. Misfire knocked his hand away, and Fulcrum heaved. He asked, “What are you doing?”

Misfire straightened his arms and looked Fulcrum in the optics. “I have surveyed the area.”

“And?” Fulcrum squirmed. Misfire had that look in his eyes. This is usually where Fulcrum would make a dash for Grimlock or Krok. They were good for a distraction. But he had a feeling that Misfire was going to say…

“We are alone.” Yup, Fulcrum thought to himself. He tried to crawl away, but was still trapped by the jet’s legs. The grin spread across Misfire’s face like butter on bread. Whatever those two things were. Misfire tapped Fulcrum’s nose. “All alone.”

“I sort of figured that,” Fulcrum said, looking both directions. “Would you get off so we can look for the others?”

“What’s the best thing to do if you’re lost?” Misfire asked, dropping down onto Fulcrum’s legs with a loud clang. He sat on Fulcrum’s knees, bracing himself on Fulcrum’s thighs with his hands. Fulcrum wanted his ignition pin back when Misfire leaned in and went, “Hmm?”

“Stay put?” Fulcrum offered, reaching behind him for something he could use. Maybe he’d find something shiny and throw it. Misfire would go for that.

“Yes,” Misfire said, optics mischievous. No, that wasn’t the right word. Want. They were full of want. The maroon jet slid down Fulcrum’s thighs until his waist was flush with Fulcrum’s. He ground in a little, and bumped their helms together and grinned. “Which means, we’ve finally got that free time together. No others to bother us. Just you and me, and all this free time.”

“So we do,” Fulcrum said, chuckling nervously. He pat the side of Misfire’s waist, as friendly as possible, and nodded his head. “So, um. We should use this time wisely.”

Misfire leaned over and kissed the side of Fulcrum’s face. The K-Class shivered in some odd mixture of terror and arousal. Misfire proceeded to butterfly kiss the top of his helm, as he rolled his hip into Fulcrum. “Yeah, and I can think of all sorts of things we can do–”

“Like inventory!” Fulcrum said, shoving Misfire off to the side. The jet collapsed in a heap as Fulcrum scrambled to his feet and sprinted a good ten or twenty feet from the jet. He laughed awkwardly, holding out his hands. “We can do personal inventories of our subspace compartments!”

Misfire rolled over and looked up from the ground. He looked dazed, but worse than that: Hurt. “What?”

“Or we could survey the area. Do a little one-on-one exploring!” Fulcrum said, throwing his arms up in the air. He threw them to the sides, and even he could tell the smile on his face was forced. “That could be fun, right?”

Misfire squinted, looked down and back up. He crossed his arms, and revved his thrusters in agitation. “If you didn’t want to interface, you could have just said something.”

“No, that’s not it,” Fulcrum said. And it wasn’t. Want was not the issue here. He bit his lip and felt his pumps start speeding up. Fulcrum tired, “It’s just–”

“You didn’t want to do it on the ship because the others were there,” Misfire pouted. He flicked his wings viciously and crossed his arms. “That’s what you said. You said if we were alone it’d be fine!”

Fulcrum had indeed said such a thing. Under the impression that he and Misfire would never be left alone. Fulcrum pulled his hands up and put them behind his neck, his elbows hanging down to meet in front. “Yeah, I…I did.”

“And we’re alone now! We’ve got plenty of time!” Misfire pointed at Fulcrum, jumping to his feet. “So what’s the deal!? Do you want to, yes or no!?”

“It’s not really a yes or not, thing.” Fulcrum dropped his arms. He dug one foot into the ground. “Well, that is, it’s more of an ‘I can’t’ thing.”

Misfire stomped over and glared at Fulcrum optic-to-optic. The pain in his optics at rejection stabbed at Fulcrum’s spark. “Can’t what?”

“Interface,” Fulcrum blurted. “I can’t interface!”

Misfire opened his mouth, and snapped it shut. The pain was replaced with confusion. Misfire pressed his fingers on Fulcrum’s waist, he rubbed his thumb in a small circle where his interface panel once was. “You can’t interface?”

Fulcrum pointed a finger at the top of his chest, and moved it down and up indicated the general area. His energon rushed through his system, embarrassed. “They took out all my interface equipment during the reformat to K-Class.”

Misfire gaped. “What?”

“This is supposed to be a punishment, you know? The K-Class thing. What do mechs who know they’re going to die, do? Live it up!” Fulcrum threw his hands in the air. “So, they took out all our interfacing equipment and wires to keep the bots from going nuts with each other before The Jump.”

“Ow,” Misfire said. He tapped the center of Fulcrum’s chest-plate. He looked down at his own chest-plate, and flicked his thumb on the latch that disconnected the front piece of armor from his protoform. “So what about a direct spark-to-spark. I know that’s all sappy and slag, but desperate is desperate.”

“The casing is welded shut.” Fulcrum smiled, his eyes dropping a bit. His chest-plate came off for maintenance–thus how Spinster got his ignition pin and explosive component out–but the spark casing itself? “Sealed up tight.”

Misfire dropped his arms to match Fulcrum’s. His entire face looked disappointed. Fulcrum couldn’t blame him. Misfire had wanted to interface with Fulcrum from the moment they got into space after the DJD. He’d gone on and on about how they were perfect for each other. Real mates. Fulcrum wanted so badly to make that happen but…he couldn’t. But he couldn’t work up the nerve to tell Misfire that either.

Fulcrum was a coward, remember?

Misfire hadn’t said anything in a while now. Junkion’s sun was slowly dipping in the corner, and somewhere across this planet their companions were probably looking for them. Misfire took his hand back. Fulcrum desperately wanted the contact back. The jet twitched his wings, and looked at Fulcrum. The K-Class waited for the teasing, or the pity, but–

“Can you still cuddle?”

Fulcrum looked up, stunned by the question. “Huh?”

“Cuddle,” Misfire said. There was an odd moment of silence before out of nowhere, Misfire hugged Fulcrum. No, that was too little a word. Tackled into a desperate embrace was more accurate, holding their chests and bodies so close Fulcrum thought they might meld together. Misfire buried his head into Fulcrum’s neck, and kept squeezing until Fulcrum felt like his armor was bending. It was uncomfortable, but he could feel it. Through the metal: The pulses of a spark. Misfire hummed, “Cuddling is nice.”

“Y-yeah,” Fulcrum said, a choke in his voice. He pulled his arms up and hugged Misfire back. This was more than he could have asked for. Fulcrum tightened his hold, his fingers digging in until they dented Misfire’s armor. “It really is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on September 16, 2013 as “Drabble #55 - Fulcrum/Misfire, No. 2.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on October 19, 2019. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

Misfire’s flighty, short attention span lent itself well to butterfly kisses. Quick, flashes of a kiss that nipped and dotted Fulcrum’s face and neck, paying often special attention to the chin. Misfire’s mouth may have kept moving, but his hands always managed to stay still. They gripped and clung too tight to move. Camped on the top of Fulcrum’s waist they stayed, as Misfire nested between the K-Class’ legs.

Their corner of the ship was secluded and dark, the overhead light covered with a piece of scrap metal. Fulcrum pulled his knees up, tapping them into the back of Misfire’s wings. They were a little ball of twisting metal as Misfire flitted about with his lips to face, and Fulcrum tried to sneak in one or two of his own. Misfire sat on his knees, pushing himself up and around to speed ahead, as Fulcrum chased after in their kissing game.

It was sparkling’s play, but Fulcrum couldn’t seem to mind. Their heated metal warmed them both as they cuddled together with quick kisses and strong touches.

Misfire nipped the chin-strap of Fulcrum’s helm, when the other mech froze in place. The jet kissed his cheek again, but nothing. Fulcrum didn’t budge. Misfire sat back, knocking his wings into Fulcrum’s knees. He jerked Fulcrum’s waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Grimlock is staring at us,” Fulcrum whispered. He shivered, optics locked on a red visor fixated on the two of them across the ship. Fulcrum hunched over, near climbing into Misfire. “What does he want?”

Misfire nudged Fulcrum’s knees out of the way, so that he could turn and look around: Grimlock was indeed staring. Misfire shrugged, and turned back around. He took a moment and resettled into place to resume their private time. “So?”

“So! He’s watching!” Fulcrum whispered, gaze darting between the two. “Doesn’t that weird you out?”

“No,” Misfire said. He looked over his shoulder and waved. They were never going to get anywhere if this kept up. Misfire hugged Fulcrum into a tight squeeze, and kissed him long and hard on the helm. “Grimlock! You want a kiss like that one?”

Fulcrum yelped and grabbed Misfire’s face between his hands. He hissed and shook Misfire like he was a lunatic. “What are you doing!?”

Misfire smiled. “Maybe if he gets a kiss he’ll go away.”

“Or he’ll want more!” Fulcrum whined.

“Too late,” Misfire said, pointing to the Dinobot that had already moved his way over so that he was practically on top of the two snuggling robots. Misfire kissed the top of Grimlock’s face-plate, just under the visor. Misfire tapped Fulcrum’s leg. “See? Easy. Your turn.”

“What!?” Fulcrum shouted, and pushing back into the wall. It rattled the piece of metal over the light, but it managed to stay in place. Grimlock stared, but did nothing. Misfire waved his hand in Grimlock’s direction. Fulcrum stood firm and said, “N-No.”

“Oh, come on,” Misfire said, shaking his finger at Fulcrum. Grimlock growled, and let out a loud cycle of air. The Dinobot leaned in closer to Fulcrum, and tapped the other side of his visor with a thick black finger. Misfire pointed, and nodded. “See? He’s waiting!”

Fulcrum shook, his armor rattling on every piece of him. The vibrations sent little pleasant tremors along Misfire’s frame, and he flicked his wings in approval. Grimlock stared, Fulcrum stared. For a full minute, they watched, until finally–Fulcrum inched, every slowly, bit by bit toward the Dinobot. Fulcrum clenched his teeth, let out a whine, and darted forward to lay the tiniest butterfly kiss on Grimlock’s face-plate at the indicated location.

Grimlock reached up, and pat Fulcrum on the head once, and stood up. He walked away to the other corner of the room, and faced the wall. He curled up and they heard the steady clicks of a mech going into recharge.

“Aww, he could go to sleep without a good night kiss,” Misfire cooed. He snaked his arms around Fulcrum’s shoulders and squeezed the shaking mech. “Isn’t he cute?”

“He’s a giant death machine,” Fulcrum said, shivering still. Misfire hummed, enjoying the rattling contact. Fulcrum’s fuel pump increased speed. “A giant death machine!”

“Who’s now asleep,” Misfire chuckled. He turned and backed up quickly, blocking Fulcrum’s view of the Dino with his wings. Misfire re-positioned the two of them back into their close cuddle, and pressed their noses together. Misfire grinned, making sure Fulcrum’s optics were all on him. “So pay more attention to me.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a better idea,” Fulcrum said. He licked his lip, and grounded himself in Misfire. “I think we should do that.”

Misfire agreed, and sealed the deal with more butterfly kisses.


End file.
